Whatever It takes
by Garfsan
Summary: A man trapped in England looking for a way to get out of the country will fight, steal, run and kill to get to his fiancee. Please note this is my take on the L4D universe, set in England in week three of the infection. Long chapters.


_(Okay folks, these are going to be long chapters, as I plan on releasing this as a proper novel when its done someday. So sit back and have a good read. The chapters will come as they appear in my head. I have the first ten fleshed out but this is a special novel/fanfic as it's for mu GF xx Enjoy!)_

_**PROLOGUE**_

It had taken no longer than two weeks before the Police finally buckled and the Armed Forces were called in. Many, many officers lost there lives bravely in the fighting against the raging infected. It started simply enough, as these things often do.

There was talk and whispers of a Special Forces Unit under British Command had infiltrated a Middle Eastern country and found evidence of a "Miracle Cure" for any kind of ailment injury or condition. Broken and fuzzy reports showed the injection recovered lost cells and regenerated them and even proved effective against Cancerous cells as well as AIDS and HIV. There were rumours that it could even bring the recently deceased back to life, however these were never confirmed.

However the team also discovered a side effect that the other Government involved had Bio-engineered a new strain of it to see what it could really do. This "Other Government" Turned out to be apparently under American command but when questioned they denied all participation in the matter. This led to a media frenzy which almost crippled the career of the then US President. He resigned due to the pressure and a new President was appointed soon after.

Several months later, there were riots and violence in Paris. It washed over the mighty nations and smaller countries like a plague and fleeing citizens unwillingly spread the infection when they managed to escape their torment, only to later turn themselves and thus continue the calamity. It spread to the surrounding nations and caused mass hysteria when the only thing on the news was the "Infection". CDC and other Biohazard and containment organizations tried to contain the mystery plague but with everyone new infected turned they caused more to turn and thus the Countries of Europe had a carrier in each City in a matter of days. No one knows how it was spread so fast or even why. Speculations say the same organisation spread it, or a new and more violent one that wishes to show the world something. Others say it is an act of god and by 2012 the world will be over and they will rule the earth. Many are just simple conspiracy theories cooked up by internet forums and organizations.

What few published, recorded broken or full recovered studies of the infected showed an almost hive like activity, although they lack a queen or matriarch/patriarch to lead them. They acted more like "Packs" of wild or rabbid animals as they first spotted prey by sight or sound and then proceeded to destroy them with little regard to their own lives. It has been noted that they will do anything to reach their quarry going as far as hurtling themselves off of roofs they may have once lived on to escape the other infected. Many of them ignore pain and injuries that would otherwise incapacitate a human, however they simply go on until they are dead or their target is. Also noted is there lowered intelligence regarding doors and other basic interactions.

The main signs of a human being infected is an almost primal level of intelligence. More like the victim has reverted back to a state of violence and hate towards others. Pack mentality, over protectiveness of their terrority, grey pallid skin, fearless, bloodshot eyes and injuries and blood stains are the common signs of the infected. They are extremely dangerous when alerted and to do so without a proper means to deal with them is usually suicide. One infected can be beaten but in  
numbers is where there strength lies. And unfortunately they always appear in numbers thus far.

Also duly noted is they are simply humans that are taken down to a basic animalistic level. They die when the head is destroyed or a limb is lost. Also bullet wounds to the chest are fatal and it seems like all major organs that cause death  
when injury is sustained also is a factor in their removal. The easiest way to kill them is to shoot them in the head or sever the spinal cord. However with a fast moving, fearless and seemingly unlimited energy fully grown human chasing after  
you emitting violent and disturbing screams makes this a difficult task. Many men and women turned and ran at this sight only to be caught and beaten to death.

Its week three since the infection. The large number of infected have now changed.

In week two several new "Mutations" appeared. And this is when the British Police began to crumble. The Riot police, who were highly trained and used to this type of fighting took to the streets to contain the infected supported by Metropolitan Police Special Operations Firearms Unit (SO19) in the major cities of Britain. London was hit worst with its massive population. After a week over a quarter were infected and the rest scared, tired and weary from the eerie silence, which everyone didn't expect even though many films, novels and computer games suggested it. Many committed suicide from the sickening terror of not wanting to be beaten to death.

The Police formed large almost phalanxes of shield and baton supported by the ARU and SO19, to assault the waves of infected. Slowed by the defences of the Polices armour and shields they were beaten and crushed or shot by the armed police. Several straight days of this and the threat seemed over for the major cities that had larger Police Forces. However the more rural areas and those without access to a ready access to an Armed Response Unit struggled but maintained a stoic defence and working with Fire and Medical Personnel saved many lives. A lot of citizens took up arms to defend their area or Village. The Police working alongside the individuals who had access to firearms to ensure no accidents happened.

Hospitals were strictly controlled. Anyone with the slightest sniff of the infection were hoarded to a camp nearby for testing. Those that were not infected were treated, and those that were were burned. However due to mercy reasons the poor infected citizens were left to turn before incineration due to psychological effects of burning alive an "Awake" person. Such camps were seen as brutal and un-needed but when they all witnessed what fifty infected did to a major city Hospital in under an hour soon changed their minds.

"Awake" Is the term used by the Police to describe the non infected in the streets. Due to them being actively avoiding death and wanting to avoid this they are dubbed "Awake" citizens. The infected were dubbed "Sleepers" for the exact opposite. Usually acting sleepy, or non responsive or even violent to there own kin in rare cases. Police handled such cases with care as some would startle awake and attack them in a heartbeat. The exact way an infected reasons is a mystery and best solved by extermination.

During the second week of the infection, they mutated and became more lethal and deadly. Several simply became tougher, taking more blows and physical trauma than the others to take down.

However there were five main "Types" that occurred.

A small, athletic, leaping type that attacks with claws which have mutated in its hands and can leap great distances. It uses its enhanced skills to traverse rooftops and pounce on survivors. They were the cause many Marksmen set-up apart died and the Police were left unattended on the streets below. His/her endurance is slightly tougher than a normal infected, most distinguishing features were usually hooded clothes and taped to reduce noise. However more recently turned instances simply retreat to get used to their new abilities. Effective at breaking up groups and singling out wounded survivors as it pounces from rooftops and incaps them leading to a bloody death as it tears them apart. Many of the victims of hunters have been found disembowelled or simply their throats a bloody mess.

The next type mainly encountered alongside the first as a support role is a large grot-

***** 

_Nathaniel couldn't read any more. He felt sick to his stomach reading the next line about the second type they encountered. He was sat in a small room, barricaded in with those bright yellow steel doors with bars across the windows to keep those freaks out. The one he had come in he had thrown a wardrobe in front of and the second was covered by a steel shutter._

**I don't want those freaks coming in...although maybe it will be better if I die now..**

He shook away the thought, taking his feet off the table he was resting them on and took in the dim, five by ten room with a large grotty bullet ridden and stained sofa, a large decaying wooden crate next to some empty shelves, a small ceiling fan blowing a soft cold breeze with a hint of a stagnant detritus, death and cordite aroma around the room, the only light a small table lamp in the room casting a long shadow across the small space. He glanced at the recently deceased SO19 officer that was escorting him to the evac zone some three days away.

"I'm sorry" he whispered wiping his eyes and then on his combats "It had to be done."

He looked at the sprawled out corpse of the officer, his skull and most of his neck had been removed from his shoulders as he struggled with Nathan after turning expectantly. He was lucky, because he was turning into one of those "Hunters" that was detailed in the report he was holding that was on the officers person. It made him flinch every time he looked at the prone corpse, laying still in a large spattering of blood, skull fragments and gore across the floor and still dripping off the ceiling. It was minutes ago. There was a small puddle of sick near Nathaniel, which gave off a noxious aroma. He shuddered thinking about it.

"God...I hate this.." he whispered as he threw the document on the table and stood up to stretch. He still had his gear on, and he had used the last shell on the Police officer and it was now a glorified club with a flashlight. Along with the thirteen bullets he had in the load bearing vest he had gotten from an abandoned Army Truck he basically had nothing bar a crowbar, pipe and a fighting knife.

**Well...twelve bullets..save one for myself...**

He sighed deeply, spitting on the floor and pulled out his canteen, taking in the warm smell he began taking a sip of the hearty beverage he had just made smiling as he capped it and rolled up the report, putting into the back pockets of his vest. Something washed over him as he looked at the SO19 officer again, he was headless but Nathaniel knew he was showing anguish, sorrow and pain if he could show it.

Sitting down, putting the canteen on table he hung his head. He had killed his first time. Even though it was the only thing that could be done, he still felt a rancid knot in his stomach form as the moment was practically tattooed onto his vision every time he blinked. Forming a random, stuttered view of the event.

"Im sorry Officer..." he looked at him again, and then around the room "...gotta cover you up.."

After some searching he found a number of large blankets, which were in the crate and taking one for himself even though he knew it wouldn't cover him completely, gently placed it over his body, all but his hands covered and watched solemnly as the white sheets turned a shade of crimson, absorbing the blood to transform into a deep red shade.

"Least you get to be with your loved ones." he noticed a picture resting on his hand, he carefully crouched down and plucked it out of his pocket.

It was of a couple, him and a beautiful ebony haired woman, amazing curves, firm body with those amazing brown eyes Nathaniel liked so much, next to the beach in some far off warmer than Britain location with perfect sand, sun and sea...

"Fucker.."

He crumpled the picture and tossed it away, spite washing over him as his thoughts wandered. The past few weeks flooded his mind, the carnage of the infected spilling into the streets, the endless street chases and scrapes. He had lost most of his family, the rest had escaped on an Army Chinook without him, he rounded the corner to see it fly off into the distance. The fights the riot squads had with the infected. The sounds of skulls being crushed and necks being snapped alongside the visceral screams and echoes of the infected.

Mayhem, death and violence was his lullaby when he went to sleep the first few days. The bright yellow "Safe room" doors only implemented the last week or so, mainly made to stop the Mutated from getting in. The first night he spent on the roof of a caravan, hoping to god it didn't rain.

There was a sharp bang on the doors behind him, and his pulse started racing. He scooped his crowbar from the table and moved towards the wardrobed door as more and more banging emitted from the other side. He couldn't hear any shouts and if he could he didn't want to. The infected screeches and screams were enough to drive him crazy, and cut right through him when they reached his ears. He dropped into the ready stance he had developed over this past few weeks, knees bent slightly, doubly gripping the metal crowbar with both hands. There was a beep and then more beeps. Nathaniel swallowed hard and sweat trickled down his forehead.

"Shit..."

The room went white. 

_"GO GO GO! SWEEP AND CLEAR! WATCH YOUR SIX! I WANT THIS DONE RIGHT!"_

"GOT A LIVE ONE HERE!"

"PUT HIM DOWN!"

"NO WAIT...Clear!"

*****

Searing white light, echoing pain with a shot of anger thrown in. He was thrown to the floor from the blast of something exploding through the door. His mind wandered to the Brick house that charged after him and his buddies three days ago. He wondered if they had finished it off or not..it seemed he hadn't.

Blood mixed with the other flavours in his mouth, his head felt like it was separated from his body, numb and anger emitting from the very fibre of his being. His vision was a pure white and mixed with a tang of blood as he gradually regained his vision. He had been on the end of several flash bangs in the last few weeks.

Something wrenched him onto his stomach, his arms yanked behind his back as he was bound, and he didn't bother struggling as he knew when he had the real chance of taking an escape he wouldn't waste his strength now. Something dragged him to his knees, and he could see the puddle of blood that he was lying in. The left side of his face numb, face stinging, ears still ringing his eyesight slowly bled back to normal, the corners of it slowly making out the crimson puddle and his crowbar resting against the door as he began to make out the cold wooden floor of the office he was in.

"What's this guys problem?" A gruff deep almost muffled voice chirped up "Why doesn't he fight back like the others?"

"You really want someone like him fighting a pipsqueak like you?" This one was familiar but again muffled, then it clicked, Gas Masks.

"Well if you want him dead," the first voice added, followed by the clicking of a firearm "Here you go.." the last words seemed to hang on the edge of his mouth, almost as if he didn't want them to leave. "Because we've got ten more buildings to clear and this is a big ass place. I hear them scratching at the back of my mind Staff..they're here and I don't like staying in one place for too long."

There was silence for a moment as Nathaniel readied for the final sound he would ever hear. The last exclamation point in his existence as a simple piece of metal took every part of his mind from this earth and violently displayed it on the ground for all to see. He gritted his teeth, his muscles tensed and he clenched his fists until his knuckles were as white as the remnants from the explosion.

"No" the second voice answered finally "This is senseless violence and I'm sick of it. They're Using us PARA's as fucking hunting dogs! There's no need for this. Hell the fucking Police and SO19 can go fuck themselves." there was a pause as he heard the gun slam of the floor and skid a few feet in front of Nathaniel.

"If you can hear me son.." he paused "Take that gun and take as many of them as you can. You look strong boy, and I think that you can make it to the place you want to be." he sighed and the sound of his safety clicking on echoed through the room. "Take that Browning, and kill as many of those motherfuckers as you can."

There was another thud on the ground as they stepped out of the room and their footsteps left his ears followed by shouts and bursts of gunfire lined with the death throes of the infected and the chorus of shouts, death and screech of one of those hooded Mutants. He heard the patter of its feet and they were getting closer.

"SHIT!" Nathaniel jumped to his feet, off balance for a second as he stumbled, blood returning to his brain and tried his best to break the bonds, he had managed a few times before to escape death but recovering from an explosion took time.

The screech of the mutated filled his ears again, as a thump of it was heard just outside the room, followed by a deep guttural snarl of pure malice and hatred stang Nathaniel's ears as he struggled to squeeze out of the cable ties that bound his hands. They tore at his hands, as he twisted and turned to try and be able to lever them apart to break them somehow but it was too late.

At the door, crouched and his face covered by a riot Helmet, was the almost prone form of the Mutated known as a "Hunter". He never really named them, and wondered why people had to classify something that its only intent was to kill.

It snarled and prowled into the room, eyeing up Nathaniel maliciously and skulking even lower than normal, it flexed its muscles and reared itself into a standing position and walked over, its massive clawed hands, dripping with blood as it casually strided over, growling as he did so make its way to Nathaniel.

It was right up in his face, he could see its empty eyes and its blood covered face through the plastic visor, its breath steaming up the screen, and its deep growl rumbling about his ears. He could tell that it was about to do something and Nathaniel had to be careful. It was dressed in full riot armour, a thick layered shell that made the fragile graceful beast into a killing machine in battle armour. He noticed a thick red mass of dried blood where he had been bitten on his muscular neck, the bite that most likely turned him into this malformity, the armoured mesh of his skin-tight vest torn and shredded from the injury.

Nathaniel had one chance. Stun it and get out the door before it could pounce him and tear him apart, as his hands were bigger, and looked a hell of alot more vicious than the "Normal" ones. All he had was a load bearing vest, and no body armour to speak of, and he really wanted to get his crowbar as it was a useful item to have. He was leaning back against the table he had his feet on earlier, and he then realised his hands were still behind his back.

Feeling around the table his hands fell on something he hoped he would find.

**My knife  
**  
He had jabbed it tip first an inch in the table and left it like that, while he perused over the report he found on the officer who had now been thrown against the far wall. Thankfully the Para's hadn't taken it and now it was gonna help him escape. He pressed his binds against it and began to cut, hoping this sick mutant wouldn't notice.

To his complete surprise the hunter lowered his head, looked back at him and almost smiled, a slight chuckle leaving his sordid lips donned with a sick sadistic smile but one none the less. He raised his clawed hand, and with a swipe, left a sharp gash across his cheek.

"Your mine." Those words made Nathaniel freeze, he had never heard them speak but those two words froze him down to his very core, his blood cold as ice as he stopped moving and shock washed over his face, eyes wide open. He rarely experienced fear, but to have something like this SPEAK to him set him back. He felt himself stumble back and end up sitting on the table with a thump, his binds breaking.

The riot Hunter stepped back and dashed out the door, and Nathaniel couldn't help but stay stuck in shock.

"What the fuck was that..." he stuttered "..a Huntard that can speak? Jesus..." he rubbed his wrists as his senses stopped messing with him. And then he was back, briefly shaken but not broken.

Quickly he grabbed his knife out of the table, sheathed it and picked up the crowbar and Browning, pausing for a moment feeling the weight of it before he slipped it into his holster. He glanced at the prone crumpled form of the officer curled up against the wall.

Something exploded out of the door with a gut wrenching screech, it was another hunter, crouched and ready to strike.

**NOT YET!**

He dodged the first pounce as it crashed into the table, sending the lamp to the floor, shadows cascading around the room, as it stumbled to its feet, blood trickling from a gash on its forehead. Nathaniel stepped forward and kicked heavily under its chin while jumping up, connecting with a solid blow it staggered up and over, almost backfliping onto its back as in the next motion Nathaniel brought the crowbar spiked end down through its face deep into the table. It screeched for a second as he plunged it into his eye but it soon stopped as the wound was fatal and was cut short.

He stood there for second, knowing that the sound would had alerted more. The past few days they had started to react more to the deaths of Mutated, and this worried him. Grunting as he yanked the now bloody crowbar out of its eye socket and stopped for a second to feel the gash on his left cheek. It had stopped bleeding, and was now a stinging wound like all the others he had. His head began to thump from mating with the floor when the door exploded and slowly he rotated his left shoulder, a slight creak meeting his ears.

Stepping out the door back into the corridor, out onto the first floor over looking the ground below, he took in the place where he used to work. Now a battlefield as infected scrambled about after the Para's who were using the bar as cover to fight back, cutting them down with precise and disciplined fire. A few got over but were quickly thrown to the ground and their lives ended by a rifle butt to the neck.

Nathaniel sighed, unholstered the Browning and put the thirteen bullets he had into the clip, just like his Uncle showed him. He grimaced and took one out and put into his vest pocket, then readying the gun and stepping back to pull the slide back.

**Whatever it takes... **


End file.
